


A Woman in Uniform

by lancethewriter



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Detective Cassandra, F/M, Fluff, Lawyer Inquisitor, Modern AU, Modern Thedas, More characters to be added, More ships to be added, cassandra is best girl, inquisitor is a dumbass, plot sometimes, this sounds stupid but please roll with it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-01-23 03:55:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18541750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lancethewriter/pseuds/lancethewriter
Summary: The interstate had been jammed, so Arthur was late to work. On top of that, he had heaps of paperwork to fill out by the time his shift ended. He only wanted to enjoy a nice cup of coffee, but he spilled that, too, and got a pile of ruined documents to go with the dark stains on his clothes. Just as he thought his day couldn’t get any worse, he woke up in what he could only assume was a police station, arrested for a crime he didn’t commit. It was shaping up to be the most frustrating day of his life, but then he met her.Did he have a thing for women in uniform? Probably. Or maybe Detective Pentagast was just special. There was no denying that.





	1. Spilled Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize ahead of time for any errors, spelling or grammatical. I don’t proofread my writing, oops.

“Come on, come on,” he muttered, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel impatiently. Cars were lined up for as far as he could see, and the traffic wasn’t budging. He tried to blink the fatigue from his eyes, but he ended up slumping his head down in defeat. It pressed against the center of the wheel, and the ensuing horn jolted him into focus. 

Arthur Trevelyan was usually rather punctual, however he had been awake late the previous night -or rather, early that morning- typing up different drafts of a contract. His firm was planning to take on a few freelancers, and he was tasked with writing their paperwork. It was exhausting, yet it didn’t feel like sufficient work for him. ‘I didn’t spend three years in law school for this’, he thought with an eye roll. 

Whatever the case, he was already hopelessly late. 

The car behind him honked its horn, and he grudgingly inched forward. “Yeah, yeah. I’m moving.” 

It was going to be a long hour.

***

Arthur pushed through the door to his building with a bit of anxiety buzzing within him. He made his way to the elevator, which was fairly easy considering the lobby was vacant. The receptionist cast him a strange look, and he waved at her as he passed. The elevator ride itself couldn’t have possibly been any longer, and the wait was agonizing, but he finally made it to his floor. 

He found his desk at its cubicle and dropped his briefcase onto the table. As the computer powered on, he felt a hand on his shoulder. 

“Hey there, Dimples.” A blond head appeared next to his, gazing at the computer screen. “You came in late.”

Arthur pushed him aside, groaning. “Varric, I thought you said you’d drop the nickname. I don’t even have dimples anymore.”

Varric shrugged and pulled back. “I changed my mind. So, what was the holdup this time?”

“Traffic.” He clicked around on the desktop, electronically clocking in for the day. “Woke up late.”

“That definitely sounds like you.” Varric leaned against the desk and crossed his arms. “Try to take it easy, though, got it?”

“Sure, dad.” He chuckled and began to remove his folders from his briefcase. “Don’t you have anything better to do than sit around here? Like, maybe, your job?”

“Relax, buddy. I just came by to say hello.” Varric moved to leave, and then he turned back towards the desk. “There’s coffee and donuts in the break room, by the way. Courtesy of Josephine.” With that, he walked off, presumably avoiding work in some other way.

Arthur desperately needed to get started on his papers, but he also desperately needed caffeine. He stood from his chair and tucked a folder under his arm. He might as well get Josephine’s advice on a few subjects, if she was still hanging around the break room. 

Josephine was practically made to be a lawyer. She was a perfect diplomat both in and out of the courtroom, and he couldn’t help but regard her with both envy and admiration. More of the latter, thankfully. She and Varric were two of his closest friends, despite the fact that he had known Varric since college. The two of them made the workplace bearable. 

He headed into the break room, delighted to see that there were still a few coffee cups in a Starbucks carrier. ‘Thank the lord,’ he thought with a grin, setting down his papers and grabbing one of the cups. “Josephine really outdid herself.” The donuts had likely run out ages ago, but he was still thankful. 

He had just brought the cup to his lips when the door opened; startled, the coffee cup slipped from his hand and fell down onto the tabletop. Right onto all of his documents. To make matters even worse, some of the coffee had splashed onto his clothes. Great. 

He allowed himself a resigned sigh and looked up to face Josephine, who stared at him with an expression of surprise and pity. 

“Hi, Josie.” 

She laughed, ever so quiet, and stifled the noise with a hand. “Oh my goodness. Can I help you with that?”

Arthur shook his head dejectedly. “I’ll be fine. I actually wanted to know what you think of the new freelancers that we’re hiring.”

“You’re talking about Rainer and Solas?” As she spoke, she moved to the counter to bring Arthur some napkins. At his nod, she continued. “I’ve heard promising things about them, most definitely. Solas is rather reserved, yet quite skilled at what he does. Thomas tends to be more bold, but he’s very charismatic nonetheless. I’m afraid that’s the extent of my knowledge.”

“Okay, thank you.” He wiped the coffee off of the table and patted at his shirt. “This blazer is probably ruined.”

“Head to the dry cleaners’ down the block,” Josephine said, laying a hand on his shoulder. “They’ll take care of it. But go soon, before it sets in.”

Arthur sighed and gave another nod in response. “You’re right. It’s not worth buying a new one.” He pulled the damp jacket off and draped it over one arm, grabbing the soiled papers with his free hand. “Thanks for the coffee, J.”

“I’d say you’d have been better off without it.” She smiled. “But you’re welcome.” 

He offered a helpless smile as he passed her, making his way back to the elevator, and he dropped his briefcase off at his desk. When he stepped outside of the building, he stood unmoving for several moments, appreciating the cool breeze against his face. 

Just as Josephine had said, the dry cleaners building was right around the corner. He dropped off his blazer and button-up shirt -his pants were, thankfully, spared from the disaster- and bought a cotton t-shirt to wear while he waited for the dry cleaners to be done. 

After several minutes of waiting on a bench outside, Arthur came to a decision. “I’m just gonna call out sick.” He dialed his boss’ number and waited anxiously for her to pick up. 

“Hi, Vivienne, this is Arthur,” he said when the woman finally picked up. “I’m really sorry about this, but I’m gonna have to call out today.”

“Oh really?” Arthur tensed, but his superior sounded more amused than annoyed. “What, pray tell, is troubling you?”

“Oh, uh, I’ve got this headache that I can’t seem to get rid of. Everything hurts, you know, the usual.” It was a terrible lie and he knew it. “Probably just a cold, I should be better by tomorrow.” 

“Of course. Get plenty of rest, darling. Drink fluids and all that. I wish you a speedy recovery.”

“Thank you, Vivienne. I will, I promise.” 

“Oh, and Arthur?”

“Yes?”

She waited for an excruciatingly long moment before responding. “Shall I tell Varric to log off your computer for you?”

Though she wasn’t in the room, he felt his face turning bright red. “Uh, yes please, Madame. I apologize.”

There was a laugh on the other end of the phone. “Take care, Arthur.” With that, she hung up. 

He let out a sigh, slipping his phone back into his pocket. Oh well. He rarely ever took days off, and he figured he deserved at least a single day. His car was still at the parking garage, so maybe he’d take the day to walk around, explore a bit. He drove to the city five days a week, yet he never ventured farther than his office. 

He decided to start off with a soft pretzel stand that Varric had often recommended. He bought one overpriced pastry and walked with it, munching happily. Okay, it was good. Probably worth the price, too. He used google maps to find the fastest route to Josephine’s favorite coffee shop, and he was almost there when something caught his eye. 

Movement in an alleyway was hardly suspicious, especially for the city. But a feeling in his gut told him that something was wrong, and Arthur lingered at the mouth for several tense moments before stepping cautiously into the dark. He turned on his phone flashlight as he picked his way over cardboard boxes and trash bags, searching for anything out of the ordinary. He could make out the silhouettes of people in the distance, and he waited. 

Then he heard yelling, and he moved. 

He approached the figures quickly and took in the situation. Three men, all hooded and dressed in dark clothing. A woman was pressed against a wall, her expression one of panic and terror. He met her eyes and was instantly met with a desperate plea for rescue. 

“What the hell is going on?” he shouted, drawing the attention of the masked men. One of them grabbed the woman’s arm, yanking her to him, while the others closed in on Arthur menacingly. He swallowed thickly, his throat suddenly dry when he saw the knives in their hands. He was no stranger to fights, but he was unarmed and outnumbered. He didn’t stand a chance. 

“What are you waiting for?” the man in the back sneered, tightening his death grip on the hostage. “Kill him and let’s go.”

Kill me? Arthur’s brain launched itself into fight-or-flight mode. He sprang quickly, sweeping forward and snatching the knife from one man’s hand. The other man swung his weapon in an arch, slashing repeatedly at his stomach. He jumped away and flung the knife forward. It hit the unarmed man in the shoulder, but the throw was rookie at best; the weapon clattered to the ground unceremoniously. 

Both men snickered, and the restrained woman sobbed hopelessly. Arthur sent a fervent prayer to the heavens as a fist flew forward and knocked him out cold. 

***

The first thing he noticed was the cold. It made his bones ache and his head throb, though he didn’t know from where the pain originated. He sat up wearily, noticing a bandage on his hand. As he tried to get to his feet, a splitting pain drilled itself through his head, and he resigned himself to observing from the floor. 

He didn’t have a clue as to where he was. The room was small, dark, and frigid. His first idea as to his whereabouts came from the steel bars that served as one of the walls, and he paled. 

“Oh, Maker, don’t tell me I’m in jail.”

A voice startled him out of his wallowing. “You’re awake.”

He jolted, groaning at the sudden action. His attention focused on the woman standing outside, and he squinted at her. “What am I doing here?”

“You do not know?” The lights were too dim for him to make out her features, but he could easily tell she was scowling. The woman made a noise, conveying something of disgust, and promptly stalked off. 

Arthur sighed. It really was a terrible day.


	2. Pentaghast v Trevelyan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur makes an important clarification; Cassandra doesn't know what to think of him.

His head still throbbed, but it had become much gentler, although the bright lights weren’t helping. A pair of surly-looking men had retrieved him from the temporary detainment and brought him to a seperate room. He had been forced into a chair and cuffed to the table - treated as a criminal, it seemed. Presumably, this was where he was going to be questioned. ‘Interrogated, more likely,’ he mused silently. 

He had no idea how he had gotten into this mess. All he remembered was running into an alleyway, and then nothing. Well, not exactly nothing. There was a woman there, too, being attacked. But he didn’t know who she was, nor did he remember what had been going on. 

The sound of a door opening interrupted his thoughts, and two women walked in. One of them was a ginger with shoulder-length hair; the other had short black hair and a few noticeable scars. He had half a mind to appreciate how strikingly attractive they both were before he remembered where he was. The newcomers sat opposite of him, although the scarred woman opted to stand instead. It was rather intimidating, if he had to admit it. 

“Do you know why you’re here?” Now that she had spoken, he recognized her as the woman from earlier. The one who had scowled at him from a distance. 

Arthur tried not to let his voice shake when he answered, but he wasn’t sure if he succeeded. “Not really. Uh, ma’am. I was hoping you’d tell me.”

She slammed a fist onto the table, and he recoiled in alarm. “You killed the Most Holy!”

“I… I what?” He fumbled for words, shocked to hear such an accusation. “I’m sorry, I, I don’t know what you mean.”

The ginger folded her hands together and leaned forward, speaking quietly while her partner glared at him. “You are the primary suspect for the murder of Divine Justinia. Some of our officers found you in an alleyway next to her body.”

His mind was still reeling from the first sentence. “Divine Justinia? That’s who they were attacking?”

“They?” The officers spoke in unison, and it was slightly unnerving if not frightening. 

“I swear it wasn’t me. I was just trying to help.”

The black-haired woman stepped towards him again, too close for comfort. “Tell us what you know.”

“There was someone screaming. I, I went to investigate,” he explained hastily, attempting not to trip over his words. “I wanted to help her.”

“Did you see their faces?”

Arthur closed his eyes, trying to think back on what had happened. “No. I’m sorry, I don’t remember.”

The two women shared a look, and there was a period of uncomfortable silence. “You don’t remember?” the ginger said, at last. 

“I think I hit my head, or something”, he offered weakly. 

Another look. “Cassandra, escort him to Adan’s office. Have him take a look. He’s our best lead, so we should make sure he’s not injured.”

The woman -Cassandra, he assumed- nodded. “And you?”

“I’ll go see if Minaeve had any luck with the fingerprints.”

Cassandra released him from the table and pulled him out of the chair. “Follow me.”

He was quick to comply, though there was no need - she practically dragged him out the door and down several halls. They reached a certain room and she pushed him inside, so Arthur found himself a seat, taking in the surroundings. It looked to be a doctor’s office, however small it may be. 

He noticed the woman staring at him, and he looked down at his hands, feeling embarrassed. “So, Cassandra, is it?”

Her frown deepened, and he worried that he had offended her. “You will address me as Detective or Detective Pentaghast. Nothing more.”

“Right. Sorry.” He made a mental note to never get on her bad side. Well, he didn’t want to make things worse at least. “Detective, I’m sorry about the Divine. I swear it wasn’t me.”

“So you have said.” Her steely gaze had locked onto him. “And tell me, why should I believe you?”

“I guess you have no reason to. But when your friend comes back with the fingerprints, they won’t be mine.”

She hummed, neither a yes or a no. “We will see, I suppose.”

Time passed. It was agonizingly slow. 

The other woman came into the room, then, followed by a stranger. The man took in his appearance and immediately set into motion, grabbing tools of sorts that he hoped weren’t meant for him. 

The ginger watched with amusement. She let out a gentle sigh and addressed the room. “It seems we are no closer to the truth than when we started. The fingerprints on the knife don’t match the suspect.”

Detective Pentaghast swore, but Arthur could see the tension draining from her form. “We have ruled out one possibility, at least. Thank you, Leliana.”

“Adan, if you could be so kind as to attend to our friend here, we would be forever grateful.”

Arthur stared at the medic, Adan, with apprehension. “What exactly does that mean?”

Leliana laughed softly, putting him at ease. “You were no doubt injured in your little spat, and you were not exactly discovered in prime condition. Adan is only going to make sure you are not in serious danger.”

He relaxed ever so slightly, giving a slight nod. “And then I’m free to go?”

The woman shrugged, her answer noncommittal. “If you would like, though I would appreciate it if you stopped by my office. I have a few questions, if you don’t mind.” 

Detective Pentaghast left the room without another word, and Leliana moved to join her. “Adan can provide you with a change of clothes, if you’d like.”

Arthur looked down at his clothing as she departed. He hadn’t noticed before, but he was filthy. “Shit.” 

***

“I’m just going to visit a friend, Cassandra.” Divine Justinia V usually spoke with a powerful sense of authority, but tonight her voice was gentle, soothing even. “You needn’t accompany me.” 

“I could at least walk with you,” the detective protested. “I still do not understand why you insist on walking everywhere, Your Grace.”

Justinia lay a hand on Cassandra’s shoulder, a smile playing on her face. “I will be fine. You worry too much.”

“Perhaps you do not worry enough, Your Grace. There are many who disagree with your decisions, as I’m sure you are aware.”

“Cassandra.”

“Please, allow me to walk with you. You should not be alone.”

At first, the Divine offered nothing in response other than a weary smile. “Perhaps not, but sometimes things must be done without the company of others. In time, I will be gone, and you will have to find your own way through life.”

“Most Holy, you-”

“Cassandra?”

Leliana’s voice startled her from the memory. Cassandra looked at her partner, tearing her eyes away from the floor. “Yes?”

“You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?” At Cassandra’s sigh, she continued. “I know it hurts. We’ll find whoever did this.”

“It was my fault, Leliana.” She clenched a fist, dropping her gaze back to the ground in a show of defeat. “I should have been with her, when… when it happened.”

“It’s definitely not your fault. You had no way of knowing.”

“It does not matter whether I knew or not. I should have been there.”

The redhead scoffed and crossed to the other side of the room, staring out into the precinct as she leaned against the wall. “You can’t blame yourself.”

“Well I do. And I can’t rest until we find the culprit.”

A knock at the door interrupted the terse conversation, and both detectives turned to look at the intrusion. Neither of them moved to open it, however; after a few moments, the handle turned and a hesitant man stepped into the office. 

“Um, hello detectives,” Trevelyan said, shuffling awkwardly into the room. He now sported a bandage across his head and a Haven City Police Department trainee uniform. 

Cassandra stared at him with an analytical gaze. He seemed to be in excellent physical shape; he could make a fine officer, if he chose to pursue such a path. He was taller than her, but not enough to be intimidating. Not that she was easily intimidated, of course. “What do you want?”

The question seemed to startle him. “Well, I…” His face flushed with embarrassment. ”That is…”

Leliana chortled at that. “I asked him to stop by. Don’t you think we should work with him to find the… killer?”

She nearly flinched at the word “killer”. Still reluctant to admit that Justinia was, in fact, murdered, Cassandra folded her arms across her chest. “Very well. What can you tell us about the day of the attack?”

Trevelyan shrugged helplessly. “I told you I don’t remember much. But I do remember that I had just called out from work earlier, so whoever did it was bold enough to do it in broad daylight.”

“That is... not much to go on.”

“I know, I know.” He squeezed his eyes shut, evidently in some degree of pain. Cassandra felt a pang of sympathy, but it quickly passed in light of the pressing issue. He opened his eyes and continued. “I remember… an alley. I was going somewhere. But you probably knew that, since you found me in the alley. I wish I had more to tell you.”

She felt a sense of anger wash over her, and she raised her voice before she could stop herself, bringing a fist down onto the desk. “You need to remember!” 

Leliana interrupted before either of them could continue. “Cassandra, that’s enough.” 

Her face flushed, and she sank into a nearby desk chair with a huff. “I’m sorry.”

Trevelyan was quick to reassure her.“It’s fine. Given the circumstances, you have every right to be upset.” He met her eyes, and she could see the softness behind his stare. But he was offering his pity, and she wouldn’t accept it. 

“Still, I should not have yelled.” She shrugged, more than ready to continue with the line of questioning. “Perhaps if you were to revisit the alley, it might jog your memory?”

Trevelyan nodded. “It can’t hurt to try, right?” 

Leliana pushed off from the wall, looking between the two of them. “Brilliant. Can we count on your cooperation with our investigation, Arthur Trevelyan?”

Cassandra watched his face closely; if he was surprised that they knew his full name, he didn’t show it. “Absolutely, Detective. And, if you ever need a lawyer…” He shrugged. “I can help with that too.”

Leliana gave an approving smile. “That might prove more efficient than asking the DA.”

Cassandra stood from her seat, quickly tiring of the idleness. “I will take Trevelyan to the scene. Leliana, would you bring Minaeve?”

Her partner nodded. “Certainly. Let’s get to work, then.”

Trevelyan cleared his throat, drawing their attention. “This is all well and good,” he began, “but first, some introductions?”

“Excuse our manners,” Leliana answered with a laugh. “I am Leliana Nightingale, though Leliana will do.”

Then they both turned to stare at Cassandra for an uncomfortably long amount of time. It dawned on her that they were waiting for a response. “What? He already knows who I am.”

Leliana raised an eyebrow; the gesture was simple, but she understood the meaning all too well. Play nice. She sighed, staring at Trevelyan for a good few seconds before she spoke. “I am Cassandra Pentaghast. As I said earlier, Detective Pentaghast will do.”

“It’s very nice to meet you both.” He nodded respectfully, smiling between the two officers. “I kind of hope we could have meet under more… desirable circumstances, but I suppose it is what it is.”

Cassandra narrowed her eyes at him but said nothing. 

“Well then, Cassandra,” Leliana began, breaking the tense atmosphere, “why don’t you escort him to the scene? I’ll follow you shortly with Minaeve.”

She made a sound -something between agreement and annoyance- and started toward the exit. She brushed past Trevelyan, angling her body so as not to collide with him, and proceeded out the door. 

Looking back into the room, she frowned at the idle stance that Trevelyan had taken. “Are you coming?”

He followed her out with a quick nod, treading patiently behind her as she led him out to the garage. 

“Do you really remember none of what happened?”

Trevelyan shrugged noncommittally, and they approached one of the patrol cars together. “No, I really don’t. I wish I could give you more to go on.”

“It’s… fine.” She huffed, opening the driver’s side door and closing it with much more force than she would have preferred. She figured she had a right to be angry, though.

Trevelyan settled into the passenger seat next to her. “I’m sorry. You were close with her, weren’t you? I can tell she meant a lot to you.”

Cassandra glared at him for a moment before starting the engine. “Who are you to analyze me?”

He averted his gaze, and she tried to ignore the guilty feeling in her chest. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he said after a moment, staring at the glovebox. 

“It doesn’t matter what you meant.” She gripped the steering wheel, her knuckles turning white under the pressure. “Intentions won’t change the past.” 

He was quick to return her accusation.“And justice will?”

She stared at him, long and hard. She was tempted to snap, to yell at him or do something. But was he right? Instead, she let out a breath and spoke with an icy tone. “Do not step out of line, Trevelyan. And do not pretend to know what I am thinking.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but ultimately seemed to think better of it, and focused his attention on their surroundings. “We should be leaving, then.”

“Yes. We should.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, school had been kicking my you-know-what, but now that's over with and I hope to be getting back into the swing of things!

**Author's Note:**

> I intend to keep this going for a little bit - it could potentially turn into something good. But for anyone interested, I want to know: would you rather have more fluff/interactions between Arthur and Cassandra or more investigating all of the crime stuff? (More romance or more plot?) Thanks for reading!


End file.
